The Fire
by thin white duke of death
Summary: Gotham city...when it wasn't even born. The harvest keeps dieing...because of a certian wizard.
1. Chapter 1

I really don't know why I'm writing this, but I have that type of feeling to get it out of my system. So here it goes.

Everyone feared him. Even the butcher (Threatened everyone he dislikes with his axe). Even his appearance was gruesome; his individualism in his appearance was frightening. It was hard to even believe he was human. With his six foot five inch shadow, he makes an awareness of that he could kill you with the snap of his finger. His hair was caked in filth, with green highlights along the ragged ends of his mane. Of course, nobody has really seen his entire head, for he always wore a purple robe with a hood that covered most of it. His skin was paper thin, and it was pasty, with eyes of a vulture, almost like the same message with his nose, which also looked like a beak of a vulture. All of this could be classified as evil, but not as horrific as his smile. His lips where blood red, and where thin lines across not only his mouth, but his cheeks as well. Nothing compared to his laughter.

Those who have seen him laugh have not been alive to tell the tale. Everyone has heard him, but has not seen him. All call it the laugh of Hell, for it would rip through your soul. Specifically speaking, it would cause your heart to skip a beat, the color from your face would drip away, and leave your face forever because you knew you were going to die at that very moment. There have been rumors of him…killing people out of that twisted conscience of his.

He entered his sanctuary, without warning, the planks of pummeled wood that served as a door shut, giving Oswald quite a scare, so he jumped as a result. The air suddenly grew dusky. Every time he breathed out he grew intense of how loud it was. He had to do this, he told himself, and he had to do this. He dared to take a step further, that was all the change in Gotham. A step further and he was startled to hear the sorcerer's voice.

"I must say, you're really predicable, and of the matter, noisy." Oswald was cut from words.

"Did , did you know I was coming?" The wizard looked up gave him a look of annoyance.

"Of course, can't you refer that since I said your predicable? Don't be so bland to what is going on around you. Otherwise I will not be willing to help you with your current problem. That little pest of yours."

"You know about Cassie?" The wizard one again looked up, but in anger.

"Didn't I just tell you to not be so bland?" Oswald stood up straighter and gave a form of great properness.

"Is that a threat? Because if it is-"The wizard stood up completely and violently, obviously taller than Oswald.

"Yes! It is a threat! Jesus Christ! You assume, but you don't apply! Get out of my sight if you are going to carry your ignorance constantly with you. I will not help, nor tolerate such stupidity!"

"What do you mean when you say bland?" Oswald dared to ask.

"What I mean is…you have no emotion with what you're assuming, so instead of figuring it out, you question. That makes you to appear like an idiot." The wizard stepped from behind the stone table and revealed his entire figure. The villagers where right, he did appear sickly. He got closer to Oswald, so he quickly backed away. As a result he tripped over a pot and went plummeting to the floor.

"Do not be frightened of my appearance. I will help you with your social problem…but In case you were wondering, I do require something in return." Oswald looked up on the towering figure and fixed his hat.

"What do you have in mind?" The sorcerer bent down to the same eye level as the round man.

"Glass. From pottery, glass bottles, any type that you can find. An entire sack of it." He slipped a bottle of some unusual type of liquid in Oswald's breast pocket."Pour this in anything she applies to her skin, or enters her body. But it will not, let me repeat myself…NOT work if it is only applied to the hair. The hair is dead…this only works on the living." Oswald nodded and stood up slowly, not sure what would happen next. "Now leave me, and if you don't return with the glass, don't be surprised when your harvest is parched…or better yet-"The tall figure turned to walk away to the stone table. "Drowned in your own blood inside of your luxurious tube." Oswald's eyes dilated. As a natural reaction, he stumbled through pots, books, stones, and then he stepped on something that startled him. It cracked and he was curious enough to look down. He gasped as he realized it was a pile of human bones, and he just shattered the jaw of the skull. He ran, and kept running until he could no longer hear the cackling of the madman.

The church bell was ringing and everyone gathered around in the church expecting to take their usual routine and sing a prayer, but that's not what they did at all.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, before we go along and follow God, I have a few announcements." Everyone turned to face the christen priest."As we all know, our beginning town Gotham has been stuck at the hands of the Devil. Lately Oswald Cobblepot has been accused of witchcraft, but we await his trail, for he does not know yet."A woman from the crowd raised her hand as if she were going to speak.

"Who would ever say something about that good man? His generous personality convinced the King for us to even start this town in the first place." A man continued on.

"Maybe he led us here to boil our babies and to lead us away from civilization, just to eat us all…"Everyone gasped in horror.

"Now, now, Wait…don't get to hasty on the subject. We still have to find him and order him to the courthouse." The prelist reassured all of them.

"He's out in the woods, no doubt. Probably praising to the devil."

He shut the door, and walked with his short frame upstairs. There he was ignored by his wife sitting on the chair reading the Bible. Then violently she closed the book and stood up to meet her husband eye to eye with him since she was short as well.

"Why? Why? Why do you do such things?"

"Me? Well I don't know what ghastly actions you are talking about. Except the fact that you told half the village that I committed witchcraft. Which was done by you. You lie! Gossip! Now that my lady, is the real sin! That is the only crime committed!" He held her arm forcefully and she twirled to retain her balance but failed. She grunted and tried to pull away as he got closer to her face. His hot steamy breath filled her nostrils.

"Do you know how hard I worked for all this to exist? Any of it? Do you remember? Do you remember why you married me in the first place? For my money. I'll give you more if you recall the gossip. Much more." Cassie looked up with raged eyes

"I used to love you for who you where. The man that disappeared under that skin of yours. Now…. now you seem to have changed. Our love was once strong, even comparable to God himself. Our love is only ember…but I promise-" Oswald slapped her on her cheek, leaving it red.

"Save me the lecture….just tell everyone you only had a dream of what you claimed, that it got to your head."

"NO! I know what I saw. You sell yourself to the Devil! I'm never calling it off! My heart used to belong to you, but no only to God!" Oswald stuffed a wad full of money into her corset, grabbing both her arms.

"Do it….now." Cassie got up and leaned in the corner of the room. She nodded her head and as tears flooded her eyes she ran out the door.

The bones cracked as he turned his knife sideways, horizontal, and rotated until the raccoon stopped moving completely. He found mammals so useful. In almost everything. Especially his potions, and mixes. He basically dragged the small raccoon all the way to his cave. He slopped it on the floor. Then sat behind the dead figure and rolled up his heavy violet sleeves. Then suddenly with no warning he twisted the entire neck all the way around until it resembled an owl.


	2. Chapter 2

The bones cracked as he turned his knife sideways, horizontal, and rotated until the raccoon stopped moving completely. He found mammals so useful. In almost everything. Especially his potions, and mixes. He basically dragged the small raccoon all the way to his cave. He slopped it on the floor. Then sat behind the dead figure and rolled up his heavy violet sleeves. Then suddenly with warning he twisted the entire neck all the way around until it resembled an owl. All of the pieces where falling together…if only that nitwit Oswald would come back with the glass. His original name was Joseph Kerr, but after his brother died back in England he renamed his self Joker. Since his brother was the kings jester, but then got executed for telling a bad joke about the King. Then Joseph went mad…terribly mad.

He started to do…tragic things. To little animals. That was at first. Then when winter hit…that was when it got bad. One night…he dressed up as his brother. The jester costume could be seen from a mile away, not to mention his jingle bells rambling all over…he was extremely noticeable. However, he was so stealthy he was able to pull it off. He called it his 'show'. He threw off all the guards of the roof of the royal castle and when he finally got to the kings bed room, that's when things grew tense.

He dashed through the hallway searching for the king and made a sudden stop at the bedroom door. He looked at him. The fat lump was curled into a snug, warm ball of confuters. His chest barley rising and falling. Joseph was taking long but careful steps toward the bed. His bells jingles slightly, but calmly as if it was a part of a lullaby. He took caution as he pulled out the dagger, it's beautiful glisten in the torches light was a blessing to Joseph, but as he pulled it up, ready to strike, a knight had pulled the dagger from his hands and had threw it across the room. The knight overpowered the jester with only one thing. His appearance

He reminded Joseph as a bat, except his armor was pure silver, and his eyes was a piercing, vivid blue. The kind of eyes his brother had. The knight threw him over against the wall, pinning him to it. The air around them was warmer and as the air grew dense between the two of them. Joseph was thin, and lanky. He'd been able to fit through any crack, vent, well, anything. So he made the attempt to squeeze his way through the knights arms but failed when the knight shoved his back into the wall again. The jester never dared to even glance into his eyes. Time seemed to slow down between them for the jester, but for the knight, this was his duty.

Then came tumbling down the other guards, ready to secure Joseph. He hopelessly swarmed around the Knights grasp, but it didn't prove helpful. So he spit into the knights eyes, and started to hyperventilate. Then when the other guards where taking their chains out, Joseph had no choice but slam his head into the knights. Since the knight had a helmet on, the effect didn't last long on him. However, It was enough time to escape his prison. He ducked under his arms and started to run with every ounce of energy he had. He ran out into the hallway, knocking various vases and portraits down with amazing speed.

When he looked behind himself he saw that surprisingly the knight wasn't that far behind him. The knight threw one of the tables that where in the hallway at Joseph, causing him to fall. The knight took out his sword and pinned the bottom of the jester's shoe to the red carpet. After that, Joseph knew it was all over for him.


	3. Chapter 3

The knight held him fast to the marble floor. The cold soaking Joseph's motley in cool air. Making him shiver slightly. The knight looked deeply into his eyes. What he saw grieved him. It was like looking at a dying animal. It was just disturbing, how the jester feared him. That was never his goal, to inflict fear.

At least not to the innocent, the nice, friendly, few people out there. He kept telling himself that the thin, vulnerable, man was a murderer. Killed most of his fellow partners by throwing them off a barrier. That he tried to kill the king in some manner of ….well that was the point. He didn't know why the jester tried to kill him. He could sense it though, the determination to do such a thing in his eyes. What could inflict such determination to kill a king. That would be similar to killing a god. Then he did his duty and pulled out the shackles to restrain him.

The Jester tried to writher out of the knights hold. He found out very quickly that whatever he did, he couldn't possibly get out. He could heat-butt him again, but last time that affected him more that it did the knight. He felt the cold metal strap around his ankles. Again he panicked. What was he doing? His plan was so simple, until the knight had to show up. They wrestled to get the handcuffs on.

At first, Joseph was determined to avoid the handcuffs. He still held hope of him escaping. Moving far away. Away from this gathering place of his blood and tears. However eventually the knight over powered him in strength and stamina. His arms felt like mush anyways, so it would make no sense to fight it anyways. He felt the cold hands finally wrap around his, securing them for the time being.

The knight stood up, along with the jester, basically holding him up. The other guard came rushing in like a hurdle of bees. They shackled him, and by the kings orders, locked him in the dungeon.


End file.
